Five Things Brian and Justin Found Out
by aprilhope
Summary: Five part fic.  In each part, BJ find out about something we wish we'd gotten to see them find out on the show.  POV alternates.  Romance, angst, humor, and sexiness but no true smut.
1. Justin and Kip

_**Five Things Brian and Justin Found Out  
**__by AHS_

Part I: Justin and Kip  
(Brian's pov, S1)

That beautiful, brave little shit. I'm going to kill him.

I should have known when we were dancing at Babylon that night, from the way he said, "It's a mystery," all innocent-like. There was something in his eyes a little too pleased with himself. But he looks like that a lot... or at least he does every time he sucks me off… but I guess he deserves to. Ahem Still, the thought popped into my head... _"Could Justin have had something to do with that asswipe Kip dropping his bullshit sexual harassment lawsuit against me?" _But that thought was followed by a _"Nahh,"_ and I forgot about it until weeks later, at work. When...

"Brian Kinney, you are a fucking genius!"

I looked up at my assistant with the way with words. "Yes, Cynthia, I am. Anything else?"

"You acted so surprised when Kip dropped the suit. Why didn't you tell me you had a little plan in motion?"

"Cyn, have you been huffing Wite-Out again? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about… Kip and his lawyer were here in the office this morning."

"Don't tell me the psycho wants his job back."

"It is possible he's that stupid, but no. Ryder called them in to tell them the agency is now considering suing Kip for wasting everybody's time and money."

"No shit? Ryder proves himself to be a not total waste of a mediocre suit."

"Well, he was completely talking out of his ass, of course, but he got an apology out of them, and some begging, which is all he really wanted. Anyway..."

"Whoa, whoa... Where the fuck was I? I should have gotten a front row seat to that show! I'm the one who deserves the apology!"

"Like it matters! Come on! You got the better of that loser. You orchestrated everything so that you came out on top, right where you belong. I just wanted to say, good for you, boss!" She laughed to herself. "Seventeen year old."

That got my attention. "What? Cynthia, spit it out or you're fired."

"There's no need to talk crazy. I overheard Kip and his lawyer arguing as they left. The lawyer was _not_ happy with him. Apparently, Kip picked up some trick who turned out to be only seventeen years old. Trick said he wouldn't tell the police or his daddy if - now how do you like this? - Kip dropped the lawsuit." She clapped her hands together. "Bravo, Brian. Really."

From most normal people, or even most of my decidedly not normal friends, that would have been sarcasm. Cynthia really meant it. But I was too... angry, proud, stunned, jealous (No, no, no. Shit, really?) to enjoy her for the moment. I decided my work day was over and headed out to find him.

"He's not a trick, exactly. And he's eighteen now," I mumbled on my way out.

Justin was just getting out of school about that time, so I picked him up. He lit up when he saw me, surprised and happy.

"Get in," I nearly barked, and he did, waving off his little gal pal. I pulled the jeep away from the curb too fast, which my expensive tires did not appreciate.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" he grinned.

"Just wanted to warn you I might be a little moody for a while."

He giggled. "Like that's new. Why?"

"That prick who was suing me had a change of heart about his change of heart. He's going through with it after all."

"What?" I caught his expression out of the corner of my eye. He looked like he'd just been told there's no Santa Claus after being promised a shiny, new bike. "But he... he can't do that! I mean, can he? Why would he? I told him I'd tell..."

"You told him... what?"

His face was sheepish, realizing he'd been caught, and sad, thinking he might have failed me. "The lawsuit's not really back on, right?"

I shook my head slowly, which seemed to calm him. "Justin..."

"I just wanted to help you."

"So you fucked him? Or you let him...?" Please no. I didn't care who the boy fucked, really. But Kip did not deserve to get him. And, as distasteful as any thought of Justin with the creepy son of a bitch was, I really did not want to think of said creepy S.O.B. fucking _my_... whatever he was.

"There was no fucking. God, you think I'd actually do that with a guy named _Kip_?" He said the name in his own pinched, making fun, way.

"Well, something happened for you to blackmail him with."

"I saw him in Woody's and recognized him. I followed him out, came on strong, and… was irresistible."

_What did you do?_ I wanted to shout, but went with a just curious, "Then what?"

"I kissed him... Gross. He's kind of slobbery. Then we went back to his place. I got naked. He got on his knees."

I wondered why my hands were hurting. Ouch, fuck. Gripping the steering wheel kind of tight. What's your problem, Kinney?

"I only let him get a lick or two of my cock before I started talking about my curfew."

I laughed in spite of myself. The boy was a genius. "Curfew, huh?"

"And living with my parents... and what my dad did to my last boyfriend."

I think he saw me tense and quirk an eyebrow as I said, "Is that supposed to be me?"

"Um, maybe I didn't say _'boyfriend'_... But, whatever. Anonymously, the story of my dad ramming into your jeep and beating you up was effective. So... yeah. I said I wouldn't tell my dad about what we were doing if he did a favor for me."

"_Drop your bullshit lawsuit against Brian Kinney_."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said."

"So... you didn't let him blow you? How rude."

"No, thank you. He tried to get it in his mouth a few times, but I guess the thought of prison upset his concentration. You should have seen the faces I was making when he was down there."

I snuck a long enough glance at him to see the combination bored and disgusted face, complete with eye rolling. I smiled, but my smile faded quickly.

"What did he do when he found out you were working him?"

"He was pissed. He yelled, but he couldn't do much. If he hit me, that would have been something else for my daddy to kick his ass over."

He giggled again. I mentally ordered him to stop thinking it was funny.

"You're damn lucky. That guy is a psycho. You don't know what he might've done."

"You could say thank you."

"For you being stupid?"

"For saving your ass. And I was smart."

"Too smart for your own good. Fine. Thank you. Thanks for smartly saving my ass and stupidly gambling yours."

He did that thing I hate, looking at me where I know he sees more than I want him to, as he put a warm hand on my shoulder. "You give a shit? About my ass, I mean?"

"Well... it is pretty."

We pulled up in front of my building and I parked the jeep. I thanked him with an arm around him as we went in, and I thanked him with my tongue in his mouth and my hands in his back pockets on the ride up in the elevator. I thanked him more _in depth _for the next several hours, all over the loft, because that pretty ass was _mine_.


	2. Brian and Chris Hobbs

Part II: Brian and Chris Hobbs  
(Justin's pov, S2)

He seemed his usual self when I saw him at the Hospice. My basher, Chris Hobbs, as full of anger and hatred as ever. It's the anger that really gets me. I mean, maybe you can blame your parents for how ignorant you turn out, but I wanted to scream at him, _"What fucking right do you have to be __**angry**__?"_

I was in a coma for weeks. I nearly died from what he did to me. He has to sweep a few floors and he's looking at me like I'm the cause of all his suffering? God, I hate him. But what I hate most is that I'm also afraid of him, still. Standing there, a few feet from him, my body froze and my heart pounded. I'd been getting so much stronger, and suddenly I was the beaten down victim again. I wished Brian were there to wrap his arms around me and let me hide my face in his chest, feeling safe.

Of course, it would be more like Brian to make me stand up and face Chris… maybe staying just behind me, in case I really needed him… and then hold me later, proud of me. That works for me, too.

As it was, I had to wait for Michael to bring Brian home. He was a little drunk, but he sobered right up as soon as I told him what had happened. And then he did hold me, and whispered in my ear to forget it, to forget Chris Hobbs.

I couldn't quite manage it.

I had breakfast at my mother's the next morning, which was also to be the day of my first Gay Pride parade, although I didn't feel like celebrating. I knew I probably shouldn't tell her about the Chris thing or how upset it made me, because she didn't need more reason to worry about me. But that's what I found myself doing, anyway.

"Can you believe it, Mom? It's bad enough he got off with community service after what he did to me, but whose idea of a joke was it to have him do it at the Hospice?"

My mother sighed. "I suppose it was to make him give something back to the community he'd hurt, or to make him more understanding somehow…"

"That's not going to happen with Chris Hobbs! All that's happening is those poor people are having to feel him there, hating them, every day as they die! He's probably telling them they deserve it! It's not right!"

"No, honey, it's not." She hugged me, not knowing what else to do or say.

"He didn't lose anything. I lost time, I lost… trust, I lost myself for a while. I can't draw like I used to. I don't even know if I can still be an artist. What did he lose? A little free time on weekends? He's going to Penn State to be the big football hero. Hell, they'll probably have a parade for _him_!"

"He's not going to Penn State, Justin. He lost his football scholarship. I think I heard he's taking some classes at one of the community colleges."

I hadn't expected that. "Why'd he lose his scholarship? Don't tell me they didn't want a basher at their school."

"Chris can't play football anymore, at least not like _he_ used to. His knee is… completely shot."

"Oh," I said, slowly breaking into a grin. "How sad."

My mom grinned, too. Chris Hobbs had hurt her boy. She had less than zero sympathy.

"How did he hurt his knee?" I asked, wondering when he'd found time, between court dates and terrorizing AIDS patients, to injure himself on the football field.

My mom paused for a few seconds, thinking, then kissed my cheek and smiled at me. "Ask Brian. Oh, it's almost time for me to go meet up with PFLAG. I'll see you at the parade, honey!"

I had actually planned on telling her that I wasn't going, despite Brian's insistence that I should. But, as I watched her run upstairs to get ready, and I let myself out, something told me I was going after all. _"Ask Brian"_? I probably wouldn't be able to talk to him like I wanted until late, after the festivities died down and we were both back home, but that was okay. I had the day to experience Pride, and to wonder if my mother's cryptic clue meant what I thought it might.

xxxxx

Pride was… colorful… and loud… and fun, all of which I'd expected. What I didn't expect was that it would actually make me feel proud. Marching with my mom, who loves me for who I am. Surrounded by hundreds of queers like me, completely unapologetic about who they are. There was no way I could feel beaten down there. And Brian knew that. I realized that's why he wouldn't let me sit on the sidelines… wouldn't let me hide.

For that reason and, I suspected, a lot more, I was feeling very thankful for Brian's presence in my life. Instead of holding on too tight, like I usually do, I decided to point him in the direction of a couple of semi-hot guys (a little too beefy for my taste) and walk away. He'd just handed Gus back over to Mel and Linds, and I didn't want him to feel like he had to babysit me, too. I still can't believe what he did… coming after me and asking me to dance instead… to another ridiculously romantic song. We danced and we kissed, and it was magic because I could feel how much he genuinely wanted to be with me. I couldn't wait to get him alone… for two reasons.

But once we got to the loft, reason # 1 - wanting us to have our wicked ways with each other, would have to wait for reason # 2 - needing to do what my mother said and "_Ask Brian_."

"Bri-… Brian, um… Stop, okay?" How did I manage to say that when the most beautiful man I've ever met already had his shirt off and his tongue in my ear?

He stilled his hands and whispered, "You all right?" It wasn't that long ago that I couldn't let anyone touch me, even Brian really, and he was still a bit careful with me.

I kissed his lips reassuringly. "Yeah, I'm great. Tonight was a blast. And you made me love another corny old song."

He smiled and took my hand, pulling me towards the bed.

"I just need to ask you something."

"_Talking?_" Brian sighed dramatically at the prospect, but sat us both down on the bed and waited for my question.

"When I was with my mother this morning, she said something about Chris Hobbs…"

"Your mother and Chris Hobbs in the same sentence. There goes my hard-on."

"Brian…"

"Sorry."

"I was complaining about how the fucker didn't lose anything for what he did, and she told me he did at least lose his big football scholarship. Which, believe it or not, is a big deal for him. Supposedly, he was good enough to play for a pro team someday. But he got some kind of knee injury, like really bad, and… it's never going to happen."

"Hmm." Brian didn't look surprised, but he raised his eyebrows slightly in something like amusement. "That's karma for you."

"Karma by Kinney?"

He smiled, uncomfortably, and looked down. He didn't bother to deny, just said, "Hey, that's a good name for… something. My own fragrance, perhaps. I'll give you 0.01 of the profits."

"Brian, be serious. I asked my mom how he hurt his knee and she said, '_Ask Brian_.' I don't like to think about what happened in that parking garage, but…"

"Yeah, me neither."

Brian was good at keeping his emotions off his face, except when it came to my bashing. Any mention of it and I could see him reliving it against his will.

"I know. So just tell me. Did you do it? Did you… what, break his kneecaps?"

"Unfortunately just the one." He exhaled a breath as he stood up, rubbed his hand over his face, and began a shallow pacing. I could tell he tried to make himself speak as automatically and without feeling as possible. "After he hit you with the bat, I ran to you. First thing I did was pick up the bat and swing it at him." Brian reenacted the angry movement. "I'm amazed I managed to hit his knee, but I just knew I couldn't let him get away. Couldn't even enjoy him screaming in pain, 'cause you were… bleeding on the ground… and then _I_ was screaming…"

I was about to cry from the thinly disguised pain in his voice. I grabbed his wrist and tugged him back down next to me. Then I scooted closer to him and wrapped my legs snugly around his hips.

"I worried, for a while, that maybe…" He coughed, clearing his throat. "Maybe that… five seconds, or however long it took… could have made a difference to you I shouldn't have risked. If you hadn't woken up…" Brian winced at his own words. "Well, I'd have been convinced of it."

"Don't do that, Brian. I woke up and I'm here." I took his hands in mine and squeezed. "And I'm glad you took those five seconds. He might not have stopped until I was dead. He might've gone after you, too."

"I wasn't thinking that clearly. I sure as hell wasn't plotting to sabotage his football career. I just wanted to _hurt_ him."

_Because he hurt me_, I thought to myself, but I didn't say it. Didn't need to be said. I leaned in and breathed, "Thank you," against his neck. "I'm just surprised the asshole didn't try to sue you or something over his _shattered dreams_."

Brian threaded his fingers through my hair. "I guess it wouldn't do to have the world know you bashed one fag just to get the shit beat out of you by another one."

Somehow we always ended up with our foreheads resting against each other. I laughed softly. "I'm really glad you're on my side."

I kissed him, tickling his lips with the tip of my tongue. Then it was deeper, trying to take in as much of his taste as possible, and only stopping long enough for him to finally get my shirt off. He pulled me tight against him, and we fell back on the bed. He had me pinned down, grinding into me and biting my chest, his weight on me heaven for a few brief moments. But then he rolled us on our sides and seemed to ease off a little.

As much as I loved that Brian Kinney, Fuck Machine, had been able to… wanted to, slow things down and be so careful with me in recent weeks, I was stronger now. Especially after the Hospice, and Pride, and learning just how far Brian was willing to go for me. I didn't want him to hold anything back. I wanted it fast and hard and out of control. I needed him to… to…

"Fuck me," I commanded.

He saw in my eyes that I meant it. He grinned, reaching down and massaging my cock.

"All you had to do was _ask Brian_."

And, _oh my God_, did he answer. Three times.


	3. Justin and The Sap

Part III: Justin and "The Sap"  
(Brian's pov, S2)

He kept kind of twitching in his sleep. Pulling farther over to his side of the bed, and muttering. Used to be it would take more than that to wake me, but I'd gotten used to waking up with Justin's nightmares. They'd gotten slowly less and less, though, and I was pretty sure he hadn't dreamt about Hobbs or the bashing in weeks. And this seemed… different, anyway. He wasn't screaming or bolting up in bed like a shot, then finding the space I'd made for him under my arm and burrowing in. His cries of "no" were quieter but more persistent, and it was like he was pushing phantom hands off of his body. When I made a motion to hold him, he came out of it just long enough to look at me, hazy and trapped, then close his eyes again and pretend he was still sleeping. Like nothing had happened. But I knew something had.

And I blamed The Sap.

I knew it had to do with that damn party. It was too much of a coincidence that it marked the end of Justin's Go-Go dancing career. I was just so fucking glad he wasn't going to do it anymore, I pretended to buy his explanation that he finally realized being up all night, every night, was making him shit for school. That he finally realized I was right, which was a nice touch, but no cigar. He's way too super smart to be so slow comprehending something so obvious. But he wanted to fuck, so I told the gift horse to keep its mouth shut, I wouldn't be looking in. I even… did something I _don't_ do.

He'd wanted the control before. Played at taking it several times. Even come out and asked for it, but I would never let him have it. I'd chuckle at his youthful nerve and pin him to the bed, the wall, the fill-in-the-blank fuckable surface, and he'd give in pretty damn happily. This time was something else. There was no playing, and he didn't ask. Only with his eyes, and even that was more of a gentle telling. When he pushed at me to roll over to my stomach, I resisted for only seconds. Nobody tops me. Everyone knows I do the fucking; I don't get fucked. I don't give that control to anyone, and I haven't since I was his age. But… Christ, I don't know. He needed it more than I did.

I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fucking incredible. The lad has always been rather talented when it comes to pleasing me. And… notwithstanding his remarkable skill for blow jobs, which I think had to be inborn… I taught him everything he knows, so how could he be any less than amazing? His technique, his stamina (fuckingteenagergoddamn), certainly his cock, were never in question. What did surprise me was how much I enjoyed it.

I gave into it and found I actually… really liked feeling his weight on my back. Feeling his hard cock sliding between the cheeks of my ass. Hearing the tear of the wrapper and thinking of him putting the condom on himself instead of me for a change. The sensation of him pushing against my hole, pushing himself all the way, stretching me. As I closed my eyes and choked out my body's appreciation into the pillow. Justin inside me. Justin fucking me. Justin making me come so hard I wanted to hold back, make it less, but couldn't. Never wanted to give him any power over me, but he wouldn't have even tried this if he didn't already know he had it. And, even with whatever he had going on or needed to prove, Justin's version of domination felt a lot like love. Who knows… Maybe I needed it as much as he did, after all.

Not for a regular thing, of course. But I guess it was a good way to spice things up.

Anyway, he proved something was wrong when he didn't want to go to Babylon the next night. I was looking forward to celebrating his freedom by dancing with him all over his former workplace, without interruption from his former pimp- I mean boss. And I thought he would be, too. But he just shook his head and claimed he had a lot of homework to catch up on.

"I'm still gonna go," I told him. _C'mon, change your mind._

I could tell he wasn't happy, but he said, "Good, you should."

I actually would have stayed home… Fuck it if that's domesticated… But I knew then that I had homework of my own to do. I leaned in over his shoulder where he sat, staring at his computer, and kissed his mouth, lingeringly.

"I'll be back before you're asleep."

"Right. If you don't get arrested this time?"

"Yeah, big if."

xxxxx

Babylon was very… been there, seen it, _done him_ that night. Which was just as well, as I was there to do some detective work, otherwise known as private dicking.

Didn't take much to shrug off my friends. Michael and The Professor were leaving as I got there; it was a school night after all. Theodore was trying to pick up guys with his usual _I'm not good enough for you _vibe, which works oh so well. Emmett was twirling and swirling all over the dance floor, stopping just long enough to ask me where my "sweetie" was. I arched a cool eyebrow, neither answering his question nor disputing his terminology. I just scanned the room for that piece of pseudo-human sludge, Gary Sapperstein, finding him… what else?… simultaneously shoving powder up some Go-Go's nose and groping his ass. This was apparently Justin's replacement… otherwise known as the latest to let the boss man suck him off… as The Sap was helping the undies-clad twink up onto the bar. And out came the sweaty hands that used to paw at Justin, with their fistfuls of dollars they tried to buy him with. _Big deal_, I thought, _I probably have more money than all of them._ I was just glad he was free of all that now. At least… I hoped he was.

I was determined to find out what happened at that party, but no way was I asking The Sap. Even if I didn't punch him on general principles, and even if he wasn't too high to make any sense, he wouldn't give me the truth I was looking for. For that, I was off to find the one person who knew more about everybody in Babylon's business than even Miss Honeycutt. I made a beeline for the back room and spotted him right away. Mostly the back of his head.

"Hey, Todd, how's it going?"

"Fine." Todd offered a smile and his usual answer, bizarre as it was to receive while he was getting pounded by some guy who looked like Dolph Lundgren… Hmm, maybe it _was_ Dolph Lundgren.

"When you're done, find me. I need some information." I waved away some guy who was dropping to his knees in front of me… Look, for once I had something I was more concerned with than getting off, okay? And there will always be a zillion men who want to blow me. I also shook my head no at Dolph, who was looking over his shoulder in a way that said _It's more fun with three_. Although, maybe Justin and I could have fun with him another night…

"Sure, Brian. Just give me, um…" Todd's eyes rolled back in his head as Dolph apparently hit the sweet spot. "Five minutes?"

"I'll be at the bar." I nodded to Mr. Muscle. "Loved you in _Rocky IV_."

Out of the blue light of the backroom and back in the rainbow-colored shine and shadow of the dance floor, I made my way to the bar and waited. Todd's been an acquaintance for years. I've talked to him a handful of times. I fucked him, of course, ages ago. But I was wondering if I'd even recognize him when he walked up. Todd might be to getting fucked what I am to fucking, and it seemed like every time I saw him, his face was against a wall.

"Brian! What's up?"

Oh, okay, he was kind of familiar. "My curiosity. It's shot past my dick, and I can't have that. What'll you have?"

I gestured to the bartender. Todd ordered something called a Rusty Orgasm (I don't even want to know). I ordered Chivas Regal and got down to business.

"What do you know about The Sap's party last night?"

He took a sip of his drink and looked at me oddly. "Shouldn't you ask… Justin?"

"I'm asking you, Todd."

"Sorry. Well… the usual Sap _extravaganza_, from what I hear. But maybe too much so this time."

"What does that mean?"

"Tommy… You actually might not have fucked him, he's really new… Young kid, looks younger than Justin… Anyway, he was at the party… He was _hired_, like Justin was… He OD'd… I heard he very nearly died, but he's in the hospital now… Coma." Todd sighed and took another sip of his drink. "Poor Tweaked Tommy."

"Another graduate of The Sap School For Wayward Boys. Fucking asshole," I muttered, meaning Sapperstein. Tommy was just another stupid, tweaked out twink. But Justin probably knew him. Maybe that was why he was upset.

"I bet you're relieved Justin got out, huh?"

For some reason, it was making my stomach nervous, how often he kept mentioning Justin. "He doesn't need to be shaking his ass on the bar 'til all hours, that's for sure. He's got school. So, yeah, I'm glad he quit."

"No… I meant, glad he got out of the party okay. Sounded like things got rough. I know what happens when Gary gets enough drugs in his boys to make them… pliable? They go from decoration to entertainment… and I don't mean dancing."

Yeah, I definitely felt sick. "What happened to Justin?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Um…" Todd looked nervous now. "A friend of mine was there… Don't judge him by that… But he knows Babylon, knows the dancers… Right, so, he told me a lot of stuff… Gary kept giving all the boys this scary potent shit they just thought were regular joints. Then they'd get thirsty and he's there with these drinks laced with God knows what. I mean, I can guess. And when he wasn't pouring the drugs down their throats or filling up their lungs, he was shoving them up their noses. He wants what he wants, you know? But he doesn't exactly have the looks or charm to get it without pharmacological assistance. Not that it makes it right…"

"Todd!" I exploded, then tried some deep breaths. "Focus. _Justin_."

"Oh. Well, he was having trouble just walking before long… and that made it harder to get away… from the tour."

"The tour?" I did not want to hear this.

"Um… Gary showed him around his place." Todd was skipping something, I could tell, and I was glad for it. "And he and his friends started trying to… you know… do things to him."

"Did _your_ friend try to help him?" I asked sharply.

Todd looked afraid I might hit him for a wrong answer. "He was pretty messed up, too, you know? And he wasn't sure Justin wasn't into it, at first, and by the time he was sure, he wasn't needed. Even as out of it as Justin was, he fought back. Take a closer look at…" Todd pointed across the room at The Sap.

I was picturing this army of sleazes with their hands all over… _mine_… and I was glad for a distraction. Looking at King Sleaze again, I could see the evidence of a fat lip. "Justin did that?" I asked with pride.

"Yeah, kicked him in the face. Broke one of his caps, too." Todd seemed kind of proud as well. "That's why I wasn't too surprised to see he wasn't dancing anymore."

"Not professionally, anyway." I clapped Todd on the shoulder and paid the bartender for another drink for him. "Thanks, I appreciate it. Now, get back in that backroom before some poor top tries to fuck the wall. I've got something to do."

He laughed. "Okay, Brian. See you later. Tell Justin hi."

My to-do list included a lot of fun items that night… such as cornering The Sap, calling him every fucking piece of shit name I could think of, and beating the hell out of him, breaking both his jaw and nose.

Check. Check. Check. Checkcheck.

xxxxx

When I got home, Justin was dozing, still at his computer. He stirred when I slid the door closed behind me.

"You said you'd be back before I fell asleep."

"Doesn't count when you fall asleep sitting up. It's still early." I messed up his hair and then - gently - lifted him out of his chair by it. "If you're that tired, you should go to bed."

He padded to the bed, pulling his shirt off, and laid down with no arguments. But, once there, he only stared at the ceiling, awake as can be.

"Don't you want to have sex?" he asked, sounding confused. "Or did you get your fill at Babylon?"

"Sure, I want to have sex," I smiled, sitting at the foot of the bed and taking off my shoes. "But you're no good to me like this. Actually, though, you are adorable when you fall asleep with my dick in your mouth. Remember that?"

He crawled down to me, laughing, but the humor was forgotten when he got a look at my hands. Well, the knuckles on my right one.

"Brian, what happened? Why is your hand all bruised? And… is that blood?" His face was so worried.

"Not mine. The other guy's."

"What other guy?"

I paused briefly, not really wanting to get into this any more than Justin would. "The Sap."

Justin blinked several times, like he was unsure of his own reaction. "Why? Why would you get in a fight with him?"

"I need a reason? He breathes air the rest of us need. Is that good enough?"

"Wow. I, uh… knew you thought he was a sleaze, but I didn't realize you hated him that much. Maybe I… I shouldn't have gone to that party."

_That's for damn sure_, I thought, but said, "It was a job, right?"

"Yeah," he said, darkly. Then he got up and walked to the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth and carefully cleaning my fighting hand.

"Judging by the unspoiled perfection of your face…" He ran a fingertip down my cheek and along my jawline. "I'd say you won the fight. How bad is he?"

"Not too bad. Broken jaw. Broken nose."

Justin's eyes widened, probably more at my casualness than at The Sap's injuries. "And what was the purpose of this?"

"Made me feel good? Plus, he can't snort any powder for a while. And, his jaw will probably have to be wired shut, so…"

"He can't blow the dancers… or anyone else," he finished.

"That's just poetry, isn't it?"

I guess Justin agreed, because he dropped the washcloth, held my _perfect_ face in his hands, and kissed me soundly. When he pulled back, his eyes were sparkling more than I'd seen in weeks. He brushed his lips softly across my bruised knuckles.

I'm not sure what happened then. I touched a hand to his face, and… I guess I was looking at him and thinking about everything Todd had said happened at the party. Thinking about what those sick fucks could have done to him. How easily he could have OD'd like that kid. Part of me wanted to shake him and go into my bit about only taking drugs from your friends, but mostly I swear I just wanted to hug him until his head popped off.

I don't know what Justin saw in my eyes, but I think somehow he knew… He knew that I knew… about everything. And it changed his whole demeanor. He moved a few feet away from me and looked at his lap.

"You shouldn't have done that, Brian. What if he has you arrested?"

"Well, the accommodations aren't much to speak of, but the staff is delightful." I saw no hint of a smile on his face at my reference to my just experienced half a night's stay in jail. "If such a _law-abiding _citizen as The Sap," I dripped sarcasm, "wants to press charges against me, he can go right ahead."

"You shouldn't have done it," he repeated. "You shouldn't have even gone. Why did you go near him? Why couldn't you just stay home?"

"I was just finishing what you started!"

"What?"

I meant, of course, that I'd been finishing the beatdown Justin started when he gave him that fat lip. I'd gotten frustrated with him telling me I shouldn't have gone tonight. But, as I looked at him, it sunk in that he hadn't been talking to me. He'd been talking to himself. And it sunk in that, no matter what he knew I knew, he didn't want or (hopefully) need to talk about it. I wasn't going to make him.

"I mean… when you quit. I just wanted to add a little extra finality to your resignation."

"Oh… I think he's got the message now."

_If he wants to live. _"Yeah, me too."

"So… speaking of _finishing what we started_…"

He pulled me down on top of him on the bed, then quickly rolled me under him. I laughed.

"I'm pretty sure we finished that this morning. I know I did."

"We're just getting started."

He didn't need the control in the same way anymore. He just wanted it. He was so cute when he was wicked like this, but it wasn't going to happen. I shook my head.

"Never again." And I flipped us back. Me on top, the way it should be.

He squirmed playfully, but I could tell he was… _mmm_… very happy right where he was. "Just admit it," he whispered. "It was hot." His teeth grazed my ear.

Yeah, I could admit that much. "It was hot." Why did my voice sound all gravelly and thick?

"And you felt me… inside you… all day. You still do."

Damn. I didn't know if I could admit that much, but I think I did. A barely perceptible nod that Justin wouldn't have missed if a 747 had suddenly flown through the loft.

"And it's only me. I'm the only one who gets you like that. Ever."

It shouldn't mean that much, admitting that. That I'd never do with anyone else something I (basically) never do, anyway? But it did. Like when we made the kissing rule, it meant more than I wanted it to. And I am not a fan of rules, yet somehow I was almost… happy to comply.

I didn't say anything. I didn't nod. But the way he looked at me… the way he kissed me… the way he gave himself up to me again… I knew he knew.


	4. Brian and The Substitute

Part IV: Brian and the Substitute  
(Justin's pov, S3)

"You look like shit."

"Thank you very much," said a sarcastic Michael, dripping Visine into his rather red eyes. "At least Zephyr remains a perfect physical specimen, despite my sorry state."

We were at the loft, working on the next issue of _Rage_. Brian was at Vanguard, though I couldn't tell you how he was managing to put in a workday, considering that his current state had to be at least ten times sorrier than Michael's.

"What the hell were you and Brian doing last night? I haven't seen him that drunk and stoned at the same time since… shit, maybe ever. And that's saying a lot."

I thought I caught Michael looking uneasy, and not just in a hungover way, as he shrugged and said, "Brian wanted to party. You know how he gets."

"Yeah, and I know he knows his limits… usually." I hadn't gone with him, having promised Daphne I'd hang out at our apartment for a while. Technically, I was living with her, though most days it still felt like the loft was home. I got back to Brian's by 1 a.m. and had several hours to work on homework and worry before the man himself staggered in.

"He was fine."

"He was not fine."

I said "staggered," but that's being kind. Brian could hardly stand for more than two seconds. He somehow managed a lap around the loft, mumbling and breaking random expensive knickknacks, before passing out on the floor. Michael and I tried to drag him to the bed, but we ended up just surrounding him with pillows and blankets in a vain attempt to make hardwood comfortable. It had been well after our 3 a.m. "curfew," but… well, without actually living together, I guess that rule is difficult to apply. Besides, as I myself had said being with Michael didn't count (even though he and I work together, so it's totally different), I couldn't really be upset. What did upset me was how Brian didn't say a word to me. I know he was trashed, but he couldn't even force his blurry eyes open enough to look at me for a second? And for someone who was usually such an entertaining drunk, this time he had been more… depressed. Michael's explanations then were as lame as now.

"Seriously, Michael, what's wrong with him?"

A beat of pretending he didn't hear me was followed by, "Zephyr's rock-hard abs aren't quite as rock-hard in this panel. Maybe you could…"

Now I was really starting to worry. Michael was a terrible liar, and he knew it, but he was doing his best to keep something from me. About Brian.

"Michael, I'm not drawing anything else until you tell me."

"Oh, that's mature!"

"Too bad." I dropped my pencil pointedly and crossed my arms over my chest. "I guess you'd better tell me something."

I could see his frustration… looking around at all the work to be done, all the ideas he needed me to put on paper… then thinking about...

"Brian'll kill me. More than usual."

I just sat there, waiting.

"Justin, I'm not even comfortable _knowing _this, let alone telling…"

Stared. Waiting. I almost felt bad, though. He looked like he was in pain, wrestling with his decision. As much as I knew getting the comic done was important to him, I also knew how intense his loyalty to Brian was. If Michael did tell me… whatever it was… it would be because deep down he thought I should know.

"Okay!"

I grinned. It helped that Michael was never really that good at keeping secrets. I mean, other than that thirty years in the closet thing. He was only ever halfway in, anyway.

"Let's just put things in terms of the comic." He took a deep breath and held up one of my drawings of Rage and JT. "Let's say… JT leaves Rage for pompous new villain, The Fiddler, whose music puts people into a deep sleep from which they never awaken… Hey, that's not bad."

"What?" I didn't enjoy reliving my stupidity in leaving Brian. "What does Ethan have to do with anything?"

Michael's tight smile said, _Saw through that did you?_ But his mouth kept on with the ruse. "So, Rage misses JT. Pretends he doesn't, drinks a lot, fucks a lot of guys. But he misses JT so much that he does something… kind of sad."

I realized I was holding my breath. "What does he do?"

"He searches Gayopolis for a young man who looks as much like JT as possible, so he can take him home… and pretend."

I was still confused, but whatever I was understanding was making tears form in my eyes. "Does he find someone?"

Michael nodded. "A professional."

No, that couldn't be right. "Brian would never pay for… Why would he have to?"

"If you want to be able to order exactly what you want, like with a pizza, I guess that's how you do it. I don't know. I've never ordered a male prostitute before." Michael got up and went to the kitchen for coffee, uncomfortable once he realized his pathetic ruse had ended.

I just… I didn't know… I was speechless for a few minutes. I wasn't sure how I felt, but the tears in my eyes were starting to fill up to the point that I couldn't see. When Michael made his way back and sat down again, I made myself talk.

"How do you know about this? I know he's your best friend, but Brian would never…"

"You're right. No way in hell he'd ever tell me this. But, last night, we were at Woody's…"

"You went to Woody's to 'party'?" It was a fun bar and all, but hell, my _mom's_ been in Woody's… Shit, I was just interrupting out of nervousness. "Sorry. Go on."

"We were just having beers, joking about stuff… I was boring him about the store and Ben and my mom. And then he gets this kind of… sick look on his face. I follow his line of vision and I see the back of this blond head across the bar. Your same hair, same height. I should have known something wasn't right by Brian's face, but I think it's you, so I run over there. _'Justin!', _you know, and I tap the guy on the shoulder. But when he turns around… So weird. He looked just like you, but… not at all, if you know what I mean. It was kind of like _Superman_ and the whole Bizarro World thing, and this was Bizarro Justin…"

"Michael!" I couldn't let him start going on about Superman, or we'd be here forever.

"Right." He cleared his throat. "So, I guess he must have seen me looking back at Brian. He obviously recognized Brian, which is no shocker. Everybody knows Brian Kinney. I figured he'd fucked this kid, which was a pretty safe bet… Sorry."

"Don't be." I knew it was tougher to find a guy in Pittsburgh Brian _hadn't_ fucked than to find one he had. That was who he was, and I loved him for it, and Michael knew that. There had to be more to the story.

"The blond kind of nodded to Brian and asked me if I was there with him. I think I said, _'Yeah, he's my best friend,' _or something like that. I apologized to him for bothering him, said I'd thought he was someone else. Then he looked at Brian again and said, _'I must really look like him.'_ And I guess I just looked confused, 'cause he said, _'The guy you thought I was… The guy he paid me to be.'_"

Oh my God.

"Yeah. You could have knocked me over with a feather, too. Anyway, the kid had to go meet his next 'appointment.' I get back to Brian and… I made… a bad joke. Something like, _'What, in case Justin leaves you again, you decided to get a spare?'_"

"Michael! I can't believe you said that!"

"I was kidding! But I felt bad when I realized… I wasn't that far off. His face was about the saddest thing I've ever seen. And that's when I really got it. The guy wasn't a spare you; he'd been a substitute you. Brian was so miserable when you left him, he had to find a way to pretend you were still with him." Michael shook his head. "He drank a lot more after that. Whatever he wanted to drink, or smoke, or snort, I didn't have the heart to stop him. I needed to drink more at that point, too. I wasn't prepared for that information. Shit, it felt like when I caught him wearing that scarf with your blood all over it…" His voice trailed off and he looked at me, panicked he'd said too much again.

"It's okay," I managed to smile. "I knew about that."

He blew out a breath of relief, and we stared at the pages and pages of partially completed comic all around us, sitting in silence for about five minutes, until I said…

"Michael, I'm not refusing to draw, but if you think I can actually get any work done now, you're crazy."

He sighed. "Yeah, I kind of figured." He picked up his share of the work and shoved it into his bag, standing and heading to the door. I followed him.

"We'll make time to work again soon. Maybe Thursday?"

"Sure."

"Okay. Michael, thanks for telling me."

"He just better not hate me for it."

"He won't. He couldn't. And, um…" I could tell Michael was still bitter, understandably so, about me leaving Brian, and this had brought it all up again. "I'm not going anywhere. He's all I want."

Michael sniffed, looked about as tough as Michael ever could pull off, and said, "Good." Then he left.

And I was left with too much information and too many thoughts running through my head. Waiting for Brian to get home.

xxxxx

When Brian came in, I was cleaning. I always feel bad for his cleaning lady, with the things she must find… from used condoms, everywhere from his bed to the fruit bowl in the kitchen… to the broken glass of a drunken stupor all over the floor. So, I thought I'd tidy up a bit.

"What are you doing, Sunshine?" He stood there, wearing his hangover well. Sunglasses on, perfect hair and perfect suit, looking as shitty as it was possible for him to look.

"Cleaning up your mess, Moonshine." He made a face, but the spontaneous nickname was so appropriate… even before he dropped his pants and displayed his bare ass… I couldn't believe I'd never called him that before.

"You didn't clean where I puked next to the toilet, did you?" he called on his way into the bathroom, still shedding clothes. "Because it was a perfect likeness of Stockwell, and I want to photograph it for the campaign."

I laughed. "No, I just started. I was working… with Michael."

Brian made a small "hmm" sound of acknowledgement, then started the water running. Instead of taking a real shower, he just got in and let the water blast him for about ten seconds, then got back out. He walked back towards me and my broom, quite a sight… towel haphazardly around his waist and now dripping sunglasses still on his face.

"You two get a lot of work done?"

"Not really." I set the broom aside and reached for Brian's hand. He let me pull him along, up the steps and onto his nice, comfy bed.

"Why not?" he asked, as he lay gratefully back and felt the world stop turning upside down.

"I guess I got distracted." I took his sunglasses off him and strummed my fingers soothingly over his forehead. Brushing through his hair. Massaging his temples.

"Thinking about me on the job again, Taylor?" he mumbled, faux stern. "I realize Rage _is _me, but work is work. You've got to keep the naughty fantasies on hold until playtime."

I smiled and wished I could skip to the naughty fantasies. Wished I could not ask him about what I knew I had to ask him about. But…

"I'll try. Um… Brian, you know how they say everyone has a double? I hear you met mine. Actually, I heard you already knew him."

Oh yeah. Nice and casual, Justin. Meanwhile, Brian's world was turning upside down again, thanks to me. I felt his whole body tense. Slowly, he brought a hand to his head, covering his eyes.

"Michael, you fucker. You twelve year old girl."

"It's not his fault. I made him tell me."

"What'd you do? Break his fingers? Burn him with acid?"

"I, uh… I said I wouldn't draw anymore."

Brian laughed that laugh of his, where things aren't funny _at all_. "Little piece of shit gossip _queen_," he said, still going off on Michael, because it was probably the easiest thing to do right now.

I tried to pull his hand away from his eyes, but I should have known he wouldn't look at me. He rolled over and reached for the sunglasses on the bedside table, but I grabbed them first and threw them across the loft. They landed somewhere behind the TV, with a clatter.

"Those better not have broken… They're Prada," he muttered menacingly, then turned on his side and punch-fluffed a pillow, under the not particularly convincing guise of going to sleep.

"Brian, look at me."

That wasn't going to happen. Now he wasn't looking at me _or_ talking to me.

"Brian, I just want to say…" God, I wanted to say I was sorry. Sorry that I left him. Sorry that it took me so long to come back. Sorry that I ever thought I could be happier somewhere else. Variations on things I've said to him since we reunited, but now also… Sorry that I hurt him that much. Sorry that I really didn't understand. Sorry that I'd thought of myself as the wounded one, when he had obviously been…

Even without seeing his face, I could feel his thoughts radiating from him… _Don't feel sorry for me, Justin. Don't you dare feel fucking sorry for me. _There was no way I could say any of what I wanted without him feeling I was doing exactly that. So… I had to try another tactic. A safer one with us, with Brian.

"I just wanted to know… how was it?" I leaned in over him and whispered in his ear. "Who's better?"

He lifted his head enough to look back at me… like I was certifiably insane, but at least he was looking at me.

"C'mon, you know… The real thing, or the professional pretender? 'Cause, honestly… it gets me kind of hot to think about."

I don't think he knew if I was teasing him or what. "You are a sicko, you know that, young man?"

"Yes," I grinned, nodding with enthusiasm. "So, tell me… Was he as _handsome_ as me?"

Hmm. Judging by Brian's swallowed laugh, I was guessing not. I liked that.

"What about his ass?"

Brian looked bored and like he didn't understand the question. "Two cheeks… hole in the middle?"

I smiled and let that one pass. "Fine. Was he as kinky as me? What did you do to him?"

Brian sat up then and held me with a hard gaze, a little sad buried beneath a lot of challenging. "You want to know what I did to him? You want me to do it to you, maybe?"

"Oh yeah," I nearly moaned. The thought of Brian with a guy who looked like me actually icked me out, but the reason behind it got me hot.

"Okay. Take your clothes off. Turn around. Get on your stomach, on the bed," he ordered.

I did as he said, liking the commanding tone he sometimes used. I felt tingles shoot up my already hardening dick as I waited for him to climb on top of me and fuck me senseless. He didn't. And I wasn't prepared for what he did instead.

Brian lay on his side next to me and ran his hand slowly down my back. My face was turned away, so I couldn't watch him, but I felt his fingertips glide from the base of my neck, along the curve of my spine, to the top of my ass. I shivered from the soft touch, and more so as he lovingly played with my hair. When his forehead… then his breath, then his lips… touched the skin of my back, I almost cried. This was what he had done with the substitute. This was what he had needed most from me.

I had never been more convinced that Brian Kinney loved me.

After a few more minutes of worship, I heard the tear of a condom wrapper and realized it was time. But I didn't want a reenactment of a paid-for face-down fuck. I flipped over before he could pin me.

"You're not following the rules. Turn over," he growled.

"No," I said. "I don't want pretending. We're both here. I want you to fuck me, looking me in the face, in the eyes, knowing that it's me. And that I'm right where I want to be."

I grabbed the back of his head and kissed him hard. Then he was ready between my legs… his towel having long since disappeared… and hooking my knees over his shoulders. He bent forward, and I think I finally saw him smile as he kissed me again. I could feel that sweet pressing against my hole, and just before he pushed inside, he whispered against my lips.

"Nothing's better than the real thing."


	5. BJ, Surprises, and Stranger Things

Part V: B/J, Surprises, and "Stranger Things"  
(S4)

_Brian's POV_

I can't believe our little munchers have been married for two years already. Or worse, that they've been together for close to a decade (which means the delightful Melanie has been in my life that long as well). Makes me feel old, but don't tell anybody.

Maybe it's not just that. Maybe it's that I'm with the same guy now that I was two years ago when they tied the stupid knot. Considering that it's Justin, I'm happy about it, but who the fuck would have guessed. I can still hear him on those stairs, right before he told me he was ditching me and the White Party to stay for the wedding. See him there, all 18-year-old enthusiasm and romantic notions. Hinting that one day that could be us, and something like, "Stranger things have happened." I don't think so, although the fact that I didn't run like hell when he said that comes close.

But the girls still seem to be enjoying married life, in their girly way. I guess even Mel, getting fat with Mikey's kid, now qualifies as a chick. To celebrate, they threw a pleasant enough little shindig, considering how many of the guests were the dyke equivalent of _Gay As Blazes_. When we got bored, Justin and I locked ourselves in their guest bathroom and I took my sweet time sucking him off. Giving total shit-eating grins to the line of angry, legs-crossed lezzies waiting when we finally returned to the party. They'd all heard him come, loudly, and their looks of disgust only intensified when I made a big show of licking my lips clean. Okay… that was fun.

Now the party was over. Deb had left. Emmett. Ted and Dr. Twinkie. Hunter, The Professor. Even Michael had eventually stopped cooing to his unborn offspring and gone home. Only Justin and I were still hanging around. Darling boy that he is, he was in the kitchen, cleaning up so Lindsay and Mel wouldn't have to. I was in the living room, playing with my son, under the watchful eyes of his sickeningly cuddly mommies.

"I'm not sure how you even rated an invite to this party, Brian, considering that you couldn't be bothered to attend our wedding," Mel snarked.

"I did you a favor. Couldn't have me looking better in my tux than the… _bride_?"… I still wasn't sure what Mel was… "in hers."

"Honey, I told you. Brian was willing to give his tickets to us, but I made him go," said Lindsay, defending me again.

"There, you see? Worked out best for everyone. I got to try being noble, and I still got to go to the White Party. You two got married. Everybody happy. Right, Sonny Boy?" I ran a little toy car up Gus's arm and over the top of his head, and he answered in giggles.

"Besides… it was like I was there." Not sure why I said that, but I did.

"How, exactly?" Linds had to ask, doubting eyebrow cutely quirked.

I smiled. Eh, maybe it was a grimace. "Because the universe had a sense of humor that weekend. Didn't I tell you? The section of the party with the hottest men also had a wedding theme. And guess who caught the bouquet?"

I thought Mel was about to choke on her amusement (no such luck), sputtering, "You made a catch? I thought you had a pitch-only policy." Lindsay managed to mostly contain her laughter, a hand politely over her mouth. Gus, though he didn't know why, was laughing at me too, mimicking the mommies. Little traitor.

I feigned offense. "Just what is so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's really not," said Lindsay, not meaning a word. "We're just wondering why you never mentioned this before."

"Maybe not to you. But it went right at the top of my résumé."

"You know what it means, don't you, Brian?" she grinned. "You're next to get married."

Oh, that's _very_ funny. "Right. That bullshit tradition only applies at a real wedding. At the White Party, it means you're next to get a lap dance from Shane, the cock ring bearer. Much better deal, thank you."

Not surprisingly, the munchers didn't seem that interested in Shane or his cock, but now they were also whispering excitedly to each other about something, their eyes suspiciously wide.

"Hey, hey… Something you want to share with the rest of the class?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all," claimed a smirking, full of shit Mel, while Lindsay hopped up, disappeared for a second, and came back with some big white book with iridescent rainbow trim. Heart in the middle, with today's date, two years earlier, written inside it. She dropped it in my lap and picked up Gus, then answered my _What-the-fuck?_ look before I could ask.

"I just realized that somehow I forgot to ever make you suffer through looking at our wedding album. Better late than never."

"Says you." I may have been making a sulky face, but I opened the album and started looking at the photos. Lindsay and Melanie, in white dress and tux, picture after picture. Dancing, kissing… being horribly predictable and shoving cake in each other's faces. Linds looked good, and yeah, they looked happy. Glowing, even. There was one shot of them holding Gus and making silly faces. Damn, he'd grown a lot.

Finally there were pictures of some of the guests. Vic and Deb, in less hostile times, standing proudly next to the cake. Michael, all aw-shucks with The Professor's huge arm around him, in the early days of their courtship. Ted and Emmett, before they hooked up and that all went to hell. Emmett and Leda, now there was an interesting pair. Mikey, Deb, and Vic. Mel and Ted. Deb and Justin. Linds and Justin… Fuck it, I might have to steal that one. They were just so blond and smiley and friggin' adorable.

More pictures of everybody dancing. A lot of pairs of seriously unattractive lesbians. Then Justin… hah… apparently doing The Hustle with Vic and Deb. Emmett slow-dancing with the now dead George… He'd been a cool old guy. Justin again, dancing by himself, with the boys, the girls… _Fuck_. There was a photo of Justin dancing with Gus half asleep on his shoulder. Sonny Boy squared. It was officially one of the best things I had ever seen.

I realized that must have been what Lindsay wanted me to see, until I flipped one more damn page. Action shots of the bouquet toss, ending with… Of course he did. Justin caught the fucking bouquet.

I gave no indication on my face of what I'd seen, especially after glancing up to find the girls still grinning like the pussies that swallowed the canary. I don't know if they thought I'd scream and run the fuck away, or if they thought they were making some kind of point, but I smiled calmly and handed over the album. "Nice," I said.

I knew Lindsay wasn't buying it. "See anything… interesting?"

Before I could come up with a good, classy, smartass response, we heard, "What did I miss?" Justin was standing there, looking expectantly at us.

"Ahh, just the amazing symmetry of life."

"Huh?" He frowned at Mel's weird comment until I shook my head, indicating it wasn't important. "Uh, okay. Everything's put away. Kitchen's pretty much clean."

"Thank you, sweetie." Mel and Linds went over to him and rained kisses of gratitude all over him.

I got up and took my place next to him, shooing them away. "Enough, enough." I slipped an arm around his waist and grabbed a hold of his fingers. "Shouldn't you have dishpan hands?"

"Still soft," he said. "I'm magic like that."

And he knew it. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah. Bye Linds, bye Mel. Bye Gus." He gave them all a kiss on the cheek.

I kissed Gus on the head, even if he was in Mel's arms. I would have said a goodbye to Lindsay, but she was busy whispering something in Justin's ear. She looked all too pleased with herself, and I just _knew_ what she was saying. Justin looked up at me for a second, mouth open, but quickly stifled his expression and just said, "Let's go."

I knew I should be worried about him bringing up the bouquet-catching when we got home, but I had more on my mind. Like waiting for a doctor to tell me if I had cancer, and how the hell I was going to keep Justin away from my balls.

xxxxx

_Justin's POV… back a few minutes…_

Man, lesbians eat a lot.

I cracked up at my own thought. Well, not so much that as the joke Brian would have made if he'd heard me say it.

But he was in the living room and I was in Mel and Lindsay's kitchen, trying to get things cleaned up and leftover food put away. I knew the girls were tired, and especially with Mel pregnant, I didn't want them to have to do it. And, putting pasta salad into Tupperware containers gave me time to think about the party, as well as the wedding it had celebrated.

The party had been fun, mostly. And Brian pulling me into the bathroom and going down on me for, like, twenty minutes had done a hell of a lot to fill in any dull spots. Surprised me, too. I mean, Brian could be a really generous lover, more so than most people would probably think, but he'd usually take any opportunity for me to suck him off. I didn't mind; I loved it and took it as a compliment. But today, as soon as I pulled him up and tried to get in his pants, he was saying we'd deprived the party of our company long enough. Sometimes I think he just likes to keep me confused. I guess it's only fair, since I know I do the same to him.

I remember the look on his face two years ago when I made that oh so innocent "stranger things have happened" comment. I was sort of surprised that he still seemed disappointed when I said I wasn't going with him after that. Almost as surprised as I'd been when he invited me in the first place. Brian Kinney taking a… date? boyfriend?… to the tropical fantasy fuckfest of the year? I cursed my sentimental, romantic nature for making the girls' wedding so important to me, but I was glad I went, even stag.

After Brian got back and I told him all the details, I got the feeling part of him wished he'd been there, too. Of course, I left out one little detail. The comment on the stairs probably made him nervous enough. If he knew about me catching the bouquet, he'd be convinced I'd done it on purpose because I had visions of place settings dancing in my head. And I have no need to hear his _Marriage bad… Imitation heterosexual union… Blah blah blah… _speech again. That was something that hadn't changed in two years and never would.

I finished up in the kitchen and headed into the living room to find Brian looking mildly irritated and the girls trying not to laugh. When I asked what I'd missed, Mel said something I didn't understand. Brian seemed in a hurry to go, which wasn't strange, because I was too. But, right before we left, Lindsay stopped me and whispered a newly acquired secret in my ear.

"Two years ago. White Party. Wedding theme. Brian caught the bouquet, just about the same time you caught ours. Yes, you heard me right."

Oh my God. I blinked, trying to absorb this new information. Picturing Brian, in one of those hot all white outfits he'd tried on for me, actually catching a bouquet. I snuck a look at him and got the feeling he knew exactly what she'd told me. He wasn't happy about it, either. I resisted a dangerous urge to laugh, keeping my smile low-key and saying, "Let's go" instead. Following Brian out the door, I turned and mouthed a "Thank you!" at Lindsay, letting her see the monster grin I'd been keeping at bay. Oh shit… this could be fun.

The ride home was mostly silent, except that I swear he could hear the sound of my lips pulling aside to make way for my teeth, because he kept throwing me dirty looks. When we got to the loft, I was ready for him to be in a pissy mood, so he surprised me when he pretty much tackled me onto the couch, horny but not at all mad. He declared a "no hands" rule, which I made a pouty face about, but didn't really mind when he pinned my wrists for good measure. It started as a fast fuck, and he surprised me again when he slowed it down, drawing the pleasure out. We both came hard, and he smacked my ass when I got up afterwards to go to the kitchen. Something else people wouldn't think about Brian is that sometimes, in lieu of the customary post-fuck smoke, he is just as happy to have a nice, juicy apple.

As I plucked two shiny ones from the fruit bowl and brought them back for us, I wondered absently if Brian knew about me catching Mel and Linds' bouquet. I decided the girls had too much fun letting me in on Brian's half of the story, and they would have found a way to let him in on my half. In that spirit of fun, I had an idea.

"Catch!" I yelled, as I tossed an apple at Brian. He caught it, thanks to great reflexes, and narrowed his eyes at my obviousness. _There's _Pissy Brian! And he stuck around when I applauded, then held my apple over my head and waved it around, as in triumph.

"Let me guess," he spat. "We're the next _fruits _to get married?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Good, because it doesn't mean anything."

"I know."

"That's never happening."

"Of course not."

But you know what I've found out? It's the things Brian doesn't mean to say, or mean to show, or mean for me to know about, that tend to mean the most.

"You have to admit, it's a pretty cool coincidence."

"Hmph."

"Notice how I didn't say anything about fate?"

"Hmph."

In bed, I tried again to blow him. He rolled away, acting like he was mad at me, but he so wasn't. I rolled my eyes and hummed The Wedding March softly in revenge, resolving to figure him out tomorrow.

xxxxx

_Brian's POV_

_Okay God, here's the deal… Can't believe I'm fucking praying… if that's what you call this… So, look, if I come out of this alive, I'll… do something good? Be a better person or some shit like that? Isn't that what I'm supposed to promise? I sure as hell don't know. I'm not going to church, with or without my mother, so you can forget that. Not until my funeral, so if you want me there that bad, you're going to have to kill me. But, uh… I'd prefer if you didn't. Now, if you get me out of this with both balls beautifully intact…_

I turned my head and watched Justin sleep.

_Fuck. Maybe stranger things have happened._

_xxx_

_Sorry, Sunshine. Missed it by one._


End file.
